Blame it on the Alcohol
by Miaka Sukunami
Summary: Rose and Scorpius are on a special task force in the Ministry's Auror Office. Things have been rather hot and cold between them, but what happens when a little after hours party and some alcohol gets thrown in the mix? Will things heat up or will the job and other circumstances come between them?


Blame it on the Alcohol

Chapter One

Circumstances

He lay there like some kind of angel or Greek God. I haven't decided which yet. His blond hair fell just so over his closed eyes and his lean, well-muscled body was completely relaxed as he slept. From where I watched him by the window seat, the moonlight spilled over him bathing his skin in an ethereal glow. He was beautiful.

 _And I felt like I was going to be sick!_

I was in utter disbelief about what had happened in the last few hours. I've never been one to give in to impulse or act with reckless abandon, but in one night I became guilty of both. Usually, I am a logical, think-things-through sort of person. I was quite disgusted with my current behavior.

 _What had I done?!_

I wanted to stay in denial, to believe that this was all some very elaborate dream I was having. Any minute now, I would wake up in my own apartment, in my own bed, and underneath my own sheets. Wishing for a logical explanation, however, only seemed to frustrate me even more.

This wasn't a fantasy. I was not dreaming. This was very much real and no amount of wishing would change what had transpired. Coming to terms with those three facts, I was able to stop overanalyzing the situation. I found that I had no regrets. I could claim that this had been a momentary lapse in my sanity, or even blame it on the alcohol we'd consumed during the evening festivities, but these were just excuses. No matter how much I wanted to deny it, there has always been a physical sort of tension between us that has been building up for quite some time. Last night's unforeseen circumstances had just had a hand in moving things along.

I'd been sitting here, on the cushioned window seat for quite some time; my knees drawn up to my chest, naked body wrapped in one of his expensive looking silk blankets, and contemplated the loss of my virtue while watching him sleep. He finally stirred, shifting onto his side reaching for the space I had vacated which must have been cold by now. He opened confused gray eyes and scanned the room until he found me. His gaze was fixed on me intently, eyes curious.

"Rose… what are you doing?" he queried in a voice that sounded like he was still half asleep. I don't think he'd expected an answer, because he simply patted the space next to him on the king-sized bed before speaking again, "come back to bed."

It wasn't an order. The tone in his voice made it sound like an open invitation. So I didn't say anything. I stood to close the curtains of the window and padded across the room to him. Getting some sleep sounded good. The bed did look rather inviting— even though it was his bed, with him lying in it, or maybe it was so inviting because of his presence there. Suddenly, I didn't care. My mind was having too much trouble processing everything so I decidedly stopped trying.

He was still lying on his side, propped up by one arm while he held out his free hand to me. I accepted the offered hand and climbed into bed beside him. He shifted again drawing me into his arms. I have to admit I liked being there. It was so warm and comfortable. I felt safe. I lay my head on his shoulder and tilted it just so I could look at him. I couldn't ignore the nagging impulse to brush the hair from his eyes so I acted on it, reaching up tentatively to gently brush away the soft blond locks. I was rewarded with his trademark smile-smirk that I loved to see on his features.

"Sleep," He commanded, his voice soft, and I felt his lips touch my forehead briefly. I didn't fight it. I was so exhausted that within moments my eyes closed and I'm sure it didn't take more than a few minutes for me to drift off to sleep.

It seemed like we slept for hours though I suspect it was much less than the required eight. I was the first to wake, but felt quite content to just lay right where I was, safely tucked away in his arms. Thankfully, it was a Saturday, so there was no need to rush off to work. There was definitely more than one good reason to be glad for the weekend. I don't think I could have survived an entire work day after what had transpired. I had little doubt that I would've been a total emotional wreck.

I spent several minutes trying to convince myself to move and get out of bed and contemplating the idea that perhaps he was part Veela. Perhaps I had been under some sort of trance? In the end, I knew I needed to stop excuses for my behavior. I'd have to brave the storm and live with the consequences, whatever they may be. With that decided, I resolved to put all of my internal turmoil to rest and ride out the current situation with a brave face. I can be a very stubborn person. Once I make up my mind about something I am not likely to change it. There was no sense in griping about things that I no longer had any control over.

It was necessity that finally convinced me to take action. I needed to find my clothes, needed a bathroom, and it was probably about time to get something to eat— in that order. I was hungry. The team was so busy celebrating our victory of the mission that we hadn't really worried about dinner while the alcohol was being consumed. Slowly untangling myself from him, I got out of bed to go hunt for my clothes. Articles of clothing were strewn haphazardly all over the bedroom and I wondered briefly just how I was going to go about finding all of my own things in the mess without waking him. Briefly, I thought about summoning my clothes to me only to realize that I would have to locate my wand first. I almost groaned in frustration.

In the end, I picked up the closest thing to me, a light blue button up shirt that he'd been wearing the night before. Pulling the shirt on and fasting the first couple of buttons, I searched for my knickers next. When I found the lacy underwear, hidden underneath his trousers, I slipped the garment on as well and crept quietly into the en-suite, not wanting to disturb him.

He has an enormous apartment, I discovered, after making use of the adjoining bathroom. I padded barefoot down the hallway into the kitchen. The whole place is completely spit shined and polished; with furnishing that screamed interior decorator in a classic chic sort of style. It didn't strike me as the typical bachelor pad. Everything was simply too neat, too unlived in. Everything but the bedroom of course, but even that room didn't seem to have any personal touches other than his clothes. It all seemed so impersonal.

The kitchen was similarly as organized as the rest of the apartment. It appeared to be fully stocked and everything had its proper place. This didn't surprise me. As the heir to a pretty sizable fortune, I was fairly certain he had a house elf or two come in to clean house, stock the kitchen, and cook for him. I briefly wondered if maybe said house elves were given the weekend off since we were alone in the apartment. What did surprise me was the amount of muggle appliances. I didn't know many wizards who owned a modern coffee maker, but who was I to complain.

I hoped he wouldn't mind if I made use of his kitchen to make some breakfast. I went to the fridge to see what I had to work with first. There was a fresh carton of eggs and a package of sausages that looked promising. I took those out and set them on the counter. I wanted to make some coffee and get some caffeine working in my system so I looked for that next. I was pleased to find a package of French roast ground coffee and not the instant stuff, so I set about the task of brewing enough for the two of us.

After a few minutes, I had a couple of eggs and sausages cooking in a skillet and I toasted a couple of pieces of sliced bread from the pantry. That unnerving sense of panic I woke up with had waned and I was actually in a better mood, softly humming a random tune while puttering around in the kitchen.

"I think I like this look on you, Miss Weasley." He teased, wrapping his arms around my waist. "You look incredibly sexy wearing my shirt."

His voice startled me when he came up behind me in the kitchen. I could feel his cool breath against my bare skin as his lips brushed against my neck and again when he kissed my cheek. It sent chills running up and down my spine, a feeling I was beginning to enjoy a little too much. My lips curved into a faint smile as I turned in the embrace and hooked my arms around his neck.

"Good morning," I said brightly, riding on the high of my peculiar sudden good mood. I had to wonder about my state of mind…

Something just clicked, like a puzzle piece falling into place. It certainly didn't feel like an 'awkward morning after' situation. In fact, it felt like we had skipped right over any sort of awkward stage we may have had all together.

He kissed me then, and I found myself giving into it a little too easily.

"Mm hmm..." I sighed. I could really get used to this if I wasn't careful.

"Good morning, indeed," He concurred with his trademark smile-smirk finding its way onto his face.

I flushed and moved away, turning my attention back to the stove. I was fully aware that he was wearing nothing but his boxers.

"You know, you shouldn't tease the woman that is making you breakfast. Never bite the hand that feeds you and all that." I chastised while removing the skillet from the burner. He got two plates from the cupboard above the sink and I dished out a hearty a portion of the food onto each plate.

"Sorry," he said, though he didn't look very sorry at all.

"Prat," I muttered, though there was a certain amount of fondness in my tone as I set the food on the small breakfast bar where he had moved to sit.

I went to get two coffee mugs from the same cupboard he had gotten the plates and filled them with the dark caffeinated beverage. He smiled appreciatively when I set the cup of in front of him.

"Oh, you are a saint!" he told me.

"You're welcome." I replied simply. My cheeks were starting to tinge pink again. I hoped he didn't notice, and hid my embarrassment by turning away to search for the cream and sugar. Having found both, I set them on the little counter before joined him.

"Wow. This is really good. I never took you for a cook," He complimented, sounding impressed after his second bite of scrambled eggs.

I snorted, "I just know my way around the kitchen. Grandmum taught me everything I know."

We prattled on about inconsequential things while we ate, and I had to admit it was a nice change from eating my meals alone or having dinner at the Burrow with over two dozen family members crowding around my grandmother's small kitchen table, all trying to talk at the same time. Family reunions tended to get a bit dicey since we are such a large family. We get rather noisy.

I was almost sad to be done with my second cup of coffee. It was time for me to go. I needed to go home, take a hot shower, and change into some clean clothes. I was pretty sure I'd have several messages waiting for me on my answering machine too.

Still, I was reluctant to move from the stool I was perched on. It took some internal convincing to pick up the dishes and take them over to the sink. I started to hand wash them myself and was surprised when he came around the counter, picked up a dish towel, and proceeded to help with the drying. Perhaps he did do some of his own housework. This made me wonder what other little surprises he was holding out on me.

"I should get going," I said once we were finished cleaning up after ourselves. I headed for the bedroom intending to get my things together.

He frowned for the first time since we came to the apartment. I wasn't sure what to make of the expression that came over his face.

"Do you have to go?" he asked, clearly disappointed.

This tone was entirely new to me. I was accustomed to the snarky remarks and the easy banter between us. Whatever this was, it was starting to weird me out. The question completely threw me so I busied myself with pulling my black dress slacks back on, and didn't reply. I had no idea what he wanted from me. I didn't know what to say.

"Stay with me," He said suddenly, stunning me.

I just tried to keep myself moving, not trusting whatever was going to tumble out of my mouth. What my heart wanted and what my mind was trying to tell me were two totally different things. When I still didn't reply, he moved across the room to make me stop and look at him.

I stared up at him, unsure of what he was asking and unsure of what I wanted my answer to be, "Scorpius… I …I don't know if that would be such a—"

He didn't let me finished the sentence. He pressed his lips against mine effectively cutting me off from whatever I had been about to say and I found myself responding to it with the same fervor.

"Good idea?" he supplied when he finally pulled away.

"Ok," I said breathlessly, "I'll stay." I chewed my bottom lip a bit wondering if I was making another huge mistake.

 _Oh yea… my parents were going to kill me if they ever found out..._

"Ok?" he parroted somehow making it sound like a question.

"Yes," I said quite in spite of myself. I wasn't sure what in the hell I was doing. I shook my head, clearing it.

He grinned at the confirmation, his mood changing like the flip of a switch and I couldn't help but smile too.

I started gathering the rest of my belongings and went ahead and folded some of his clothes while I was at it.

"I still have to stop by my place to pick up some clothes," I warned, coming to the conclusion that staying would involve picking up couple of changes of clothes for the undetermined amount of time that I'd be staying at his apartment, "unless you expect me to wear nothing but your shirts all weekend."

He smirked at me and I rolled my eyes. By the looks of it he wouldn't be averse to having me walk around in my knickers all day.

 _Yeah, the likelihood of that happening… was zilch._

"We could just go buy you some new clothes," he offered and shrugged, leaving the decision up to me.

"No, thanks," I replied while slipping out of his shirt and hooking on the bra I'd been wearing the night before. When I turned to look at him, sitting at the foot of his bed, he was watching me intently as I moved about. I could feel the heat creeping up on me from my toes all the way up to my cheeks. Bloody hell, I'd never felt this exposed. Feeling shy around him now, however, was pretty much a moot point. He'd pretty much seen all that there is to see of me. Even so, I couldn't help turning away from him.

"I'm not going out looking like this." I informed him. No way. No how. I was not going to walk out of Scorpius Malfoy's apartment dressed in last night's attire.

 _Now wouldn't that just definitely be the 'walk of shame' from hell?_

I wasn't keen on the idea of running into anyone I knew, or anyone that knew my father for that matter, at least until I had a fresh change of clothes. I'm pretty sure that word about my little foray with Scorpius would get around really quickly if I made a public appearance in the same clothes I'd been in at the club last night.

Just about everyone knows my dad, or some other member of my family. The Weasley red hair is certainly not very inconspicuous, neither is being the god daughter of the famous Harry Potter or the daughter Hermione Weasley, the current Minister of Magic.

 _Oh, did I forget to mention that? Yeah, you could say I'm pretty well known._

If news ever got to my parents that I was running around with a Malfoy…well that just wouldn't end very well. There is some serious bad blood between our families that stems all the way back to their childhood.

"Why? You look great to me." He said cheekily. I wadded up the button-up shirt that I'd borrowed and chucked it at him. He easily ducked the projectile and chuckled.

"Ok, ok," he said, holding his arms up in mock surrender. "We will go to your place and pick up whatever you need. Then, we'll have the whole rest of the day— _weekend_ , to ourselves."

"What exactly did you have in mind?" I asked curiously. I wasn't sure what a day in the life of Scorpius Malfoy entailed outside of the workplace. We'd never spent any of our free time together either even though we have the same days off. We've always been on…opposite sides of the spectrum.

"I have no Idea." he confessed. "I thought we'd just wing it."

"Well, don't you sound like a man with a plan?" I teased with a smirk.

"Nah, I'm a 'fly by the seat of my pants' kind of bloke. Life is... more fun that way."

Something odd in the tone of his voice made me spare a glance at him. I caught him staring at the patch of surgical tape on my stomach and a couple of the more...colorful bruises. I realized that he hadn't been able to really see anything last night under the guise of inebriation and darkness of the hour, nor had he been able to see anything this morning since I was wearing his shirt.

"What?" I growled, and I'm afraid it came out sounding a little more irate than I'd meant it to.

"Uh… just admiring your beauty?" he tried, though he knew I wasn't buying it, not even a little bit. I was getting very tired of being treated like a little girl or someone that needed to be looked after all the bloody damn time.

He smiled a bit ruefully and patted the space next to him on the bed, "come here."

I gave him the most severe glare I could muster, but Mr. Malfoy, the bloody sadist, didn't even have the decency to flinch or be properly affected by my ire. I rolled my eyes and continued my little temper tantrum all the way toward the bed, thank you very much. I must have looked pretty damn silly, because he was chuckling at my antics. I sat down and he stood up to crouch down in front of me to get a better look at every injury he could find.

When he finally uncovered the gash he hissed, "Damn it, Rose, I could have hurt you. I had no idea it was this bad."

"But you didn't," I reminded him. "There was no damage done. I don't think you could have hurt me anyway. I did a pretty good job of patching myself up."

He looked back up at me in shock, "you did this?"

I nodded.

It was true. Patching myself up had become a routine, one that I was fairly good at. The surgical tape had helped to keep the butterfly stitches in place and I hadn't managed to pull at any of them.

Scorpius didn't seem to be very happy about it. I could tell by the small frown on his lips that he wasn't altogether satisfied with the bandage or the bruises that still artfully peppered my stomach and thigh. He continued to poke and prod until he determined that at least I wasn't going to suddenly keel over or something equally ghastly.

A little magical healing would have taken care of everything without so much as a scar, and I suppose it bothered him that I refused the attention. His upbringing was clearly very different from mine. Our magical abilities are second nature to him which is understandable, but in my case I've never really cared much for our brand of healing. Mum always had to keep boxes of Band-Aids and other medical supplies handy, because I was always so skittish about letting her use her wand on any of my scrapes or cuts.

I hadn't been able to wrap my adolescent head around the way my injuries could just disappear when the other kids I knew, sported their multicolored bandages and various kid-related 'battle' scars like it was the most normal thing in the world. They were proud of themselves for the efforts that earned them their scars, while I felt like some sort of freak. I didn't respond to visits to St. Mungo's or the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts very well either and let's just leave it at that.

Another shining moment of realization hit me when he finally stopped his thorough inspection. I suddenly understood the strange look on his face when he'd caught me slipping out of the office yesterday. Scorpius had been— worried about me. I must have had some silly little smile or expression on my face at that point, but he only raised an eye brow at me in confusion and refrained from commenting.

He'd been worried about me, yet he didn't coddle or treated me like a child. He didn't pry or push the subject with me the entire time we'd been sitting through breakfast either. He'd only waited until he had a chance to see for himself that I was alright without pressing the issue with me directly. The only reason why he broke down to express his concern was because I'd caught him at this little charade. And just like that, my previous irritation with him deflated.

"So...did I pass inspection, nurse Malfoy?" I asked in a teasing tone, grinning at him.

"Yeah, I suppose so," he groused, still looking unhappy. My grin faltered a little. I found that I didn't like making him unhappy.

"I'm fine," I assured him again. My hand came up to touch his cheek, and he looked up to meet my gaze, "It really isn't as bad as it looks. We've had Quidditch injuries worse than this."

He looked skeptical, "I would feel a lot better if you let a healer take a look at that."

Snorting, I dropped my hand back down to my lap, and tried to not let irritation take control again. I wanted so much not to be irritated with Scorpius, though I couldn't for the life of me fathom this whole one-eighty turn my way of thinking had taken. "What on earth for? I'm perfectly capable of healing naturally."

"You are so stubborn," he sighed, but to my relief he shook his head and let the subject drop at last. I really wasn't looking for a fight over this and he seemed to be willing to let it go.

Capitalizing on the moment, I changed the subject entirely, or at least moved it along in a different direction. I put on the brightest smile I could muster and nudged him, "Go on. Take a shower and get dressed, Lazy. We have the whole day ahead of us."

He let me lighten the mood and lead him into the new conversational direction. He even played along, complete with a petulant pout. "What if I just want to be lazy?"

I tried my patented glare again and he laughed only to get smacked playfully across the shoulder for his trouble. "Get moving, Malfoy!" I admonished.

Chuckling, he complied and made his way into the bathroom leaving me alone again. I resisted the ridiculously childish urge to blow a raspberry at him, while some other part of my mind wondered if I should be joining him instead. The idea of getting clean and washed up proper sounded very appealing, though both of us being in the shower together would probably be conducive to...other things. Things I wasn't sure I was ready to revisit just yet.

In the end, the fact that I didn't have a fresh change of clothes with me effectively put an end to the desire to join him. I set about retrieving my floaty little 'cold shoulder' top and finished getting dressed.

By the time the water stopped running in the bathroom, I had made his bed with clean sheets from the linen closet that I'd seen him grab a towel from. I was sitting at the window seat, woolgathering as they say, for lack of anything else to keep me busy. I really wished I had something to do just then. Given the time to think, my stomach was getting all twisted up in knots again just rehashing everything back up at the very instant that I let my guard down. The tiny sense of panic was back full force.

I hadn't wanted to dwell on things... to think about what I had done any more than I already had...but I found myself sitting there like I had been at three o'clock in the morning, after the fact, replaying all of last night like a movie in my head. And here I thought I had been over it already...had pushed the whole thing out of my mind…been ready to let the pieces fall where they may...

 _I should have known that I was wrong._


End file.
